


Because 9 8 7

by KKaylaKayleb



Series: Shipping Heart Stuck [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ambiguous Flirting Of The Most Complex Persuasion, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Developing Relationship, Equius is 100dicrously fun to write, Multi, Somebody finally setting out to stop the eternal loop of Serket/ Pyrope nonsense, very proper language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KKaylaKayleb/pseuds/KKaylaKayleb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Equius cracks down on the Scourge Sister drama, in his own pompous, condescending, and e%ceptionally effective way.</p><p>--</p><p>Part of my Shipping Heart Stuck series, but can be read alone. Takes place between parts 3 and 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because 9 8 7

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why this ship isn't already a thing, but its on my heart, so here (0:

Gentle rolling hills, a mountain spring, fields of wild grass and just-blossoming flowers. You lay on an unobtainable plain of tranquil existence. There are clouds full of rain patiently waiting on the horizon until you have had your fill of this peace. Every detail of the landscape is enchanting, perfect and just as it ought to be, lain out in an utterly bewitching live painting.

You're having the same dream when it happens again. A stampede through your consciousness, rocking your mind and body from slumber with loud and unwelcome noises. Your dream shatters and you are brought back to unforgiving, unbecoming reality.

A shrill, undignified screech. A brief and ungraceful spurt of terse shouting. You sigh. They are at it again.

You move your hand to your brow, whipping away intangible stress and tangible sweat, resisting the urge to grit your teeth at the apparent lack of basic civility your neighbors possess. A slow and deliberate twist of your head lets you see the glowing numbers on your bedside clock: 5:23.

Six minutes and a handful of seconds before your alarm would have roused you from your rest. Another sigh escapes you and you heft your physical form to a more upright position, your hair in tangles about the bases of your horns and your muscles fresh but stiff after a night of inactivity. You take time to stretch and make yourself presentable, adhering only to the loosest of your standards for such a rude awakening. Something must be done, and since none of your comrades ever seem more than passingly willing to fix this problem, you add it to your mental list, prioritizing it over even mortal desires such as sustenance for breaking your nocturnal fast.

You make your way slowly but with purpose towards the sound of pre dawn strife, lead to the hall between the communal rumpus block and the kitchen.

Their eyes are locked, matched and mismatched horns tilted towards a threat, teeth bared and their swords are drawn. It is nearly sickening they would dare exhibit such blatant solicitations in a place this public. You find a bit of bile rising in your throat, and a bit of blood to your cheeks as you take in the scene. It is disgraceful that these two would put on such a display so openly, and your lips curl down in the beginnings of a sneer that you will do your best to keep from pulling your lips any further. They are acting like uncultured imbiciles, but you will not make a fool of yourself in amending their deprecations.

You straighten to your full height, clearing your throat to draw their attention, casting your eyes down at them with thinly veiled distain and their gazes snap to you and you know they must be embarrassed to be caught, but neither has enough shame to even let their shoulders dip in defeat, though you do not miss the light coloring in their cheeks.

"Miss Serket, Miss Pyrope. This is a most inappropriate place to conduct an early strife, due to the traffic alone, and I am sure no one would be at all pleased to see blood on the walls before their morning meal." You keep your voice even and neutral, but allow your expression and stance to display your disapproval.

Their resolve to fight does wane some, and both weapons are resheathed after another moment of enduring your steadfastness to the accusation. In a few moments more, they go, but you know better than to trust that they will stop after a simple warning. Their eyes glow with the reflection of private Trollian logs behind their glasses as they depart, but you allow yourself a bit of pride for ending your first encounter so quickly. They'll have to wait at least until the others wake before they instigate another duel. The compound is still small yet, and fighting in any other part of the building would wake someone else, unless of course they go outside.

You decide to take a jog around the compound when you finish breakfast. A quick three mile at widest radius should disperse any further conflict, for this morning. You allow yourself a bit of pride as you pour yourself a heavily reenforced glass of milk.

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking of adding more to this story. Tell me if there's anything you'd really like to see for this ship if i dont get to it by next chapter


End file.
